The moral is - don't do it yourself The perils of DIY
by ytteb
Summary: Gibbs is in the hospital. Everyone wants to help - that doesn't go well. Oh dear.


"Now, Jethro," said Dr Mallard in his best professional bedside voice, "be reasonable ..." he broke off as he realised the futility of such a request. Special Agent Leroy Jethro Gibbs was sitting in a hospital bed, glaring at anyone foolhardy enough to come within reach. Tony DiNozzo had decided that discretion was the better part of valour and had retreated to the waiting room after having his fifteenth attempt at cheerful banter ruthlessly squashed. Ducky was made of sterner stuff; perhaps it was just that he was used to having his conversational gambits ignored by Gibbs or perhaps it helped that he had removed his spectacles so wasn't getting the full force of the Gibbs glare.

"Jethro," Ducky tried again, "I think Dr Buckle is making a very sensible suggestion. You know that he has wanted you to undergo a routine arthroscopy procedure on your knee for some time so that he can determine why you occasionally experience pain in the joint. Now seems a perfect opportunity."

"Perfect?" said Gibbs icily, "perfect? There's never a _perfect_ time to go under the knife!"

"Now, Jethro, '_going under the knife'_ is an exaggeration. Dr Buckle has explained in great detail that this is keyhole surgery. He will make a number of small incisions which will enable him to insert a sort of camera ..." An odd noise came from Gibbs' bed. Ducky looked up and was surprised to see Gibbs wincing and going a little green. Ducky suppressed a chuckle as he realised that Gibbs might have a phobia about knees.

"Anyway," Ducky continued, pretending not to notice, "it is a minor procedure and nothing to worry about. You know quite well that you will have to stay off that leg for a day or two anyway so the good doctor might just as well take the opportunity, _carpe diem,_ seize the day, as my old Latin teacher would have said."

Gibbs sighed and looked down glumly at his leg. The day had started so well; he and DiNozzo had travelled back from a visit to Germany in a C-130 Hercules cargo plane and he had relished both reliving his old Marine days and listening to Tony whine about not being in a 'proper' plane. He had enjoyed his customary comfortable sleep and had awoken refreshed and energised. Too refreshed and energised it seemed: he had jumped down enthusiastically from the hatch, jarred his knee and fallen to the ground in pain.

DiNozzo had scooped him up, ignored his protests that a compress of frozen peas was all that was needed, and driven him straight to Walter Reed Hospital. He had then added to his treachery by summoning Ducky to Gibbs' bedside.

If Gibbs was honest with himself, he was glad both to be sitting down and to be feeling the effects of some pain-killers. He also knew that he needed to have the procedure carried out even if it was just another reminder of growing old ... older, he corrected himself.

"OK, Duck," he gave in, "tell Buckle to go ahead."

"I think that is a very wise decision," said Ducky happily.

Tony's sharp ears must have caught Ducky's change of tone because he chose that moment to come back into the room.

"Here, Boss," he said happily, "got you a coffee." He held out the cup to the eager Gibbs but was forestalled by Ducky,

"Don't drink that, Jethro! I need to determine when your procedure will take place. You should not eat or drink anything for some hours beforehand. I will go and find out the timings."

Gibbs looked forlornly at the caffeine which had so nearly been within his grasp. A cunning look appeared on his face as he seemed to consider tactics. Unfortunately for him, a matching cunning look dawned on Ducky's face as he got to the door. He turned and came back to Tony,

"I think I will take that with me, Anthony. I wouldn't want Jethro to fall into temptation." He removed the cup from Tony's fingers and left the room.

Tony gulped at the thought of being left alone with a Gibbs who had just had his coffee wrested from him; he cast around for something which might interest his Boss.

"So, knee surgery," he said cheerfully, "did I ever tell you about my knee operation? This keyhole surgery wasn't so common then, so I've got a big scar. The surgeon told me that he really had to dig ..."

Fortunately for Gibbs, Ducky was soon back. As he entered the room he heard Tony saying enthusiastically,

"so then he said this bit of cartilage kept slipping out of his reach ..." and saw Gibbs sitting with his eyes tightly closed and fists clenched,

"Very interesting I'm sure, Anthony, but I believe knee surgery has advanced considerably in recent years ..."

"But I was just getting to the interesting bit," protested Tony.

Ducky jerked his head significantly towards the bed. Tony followed his gaze and, for the first time, noticed that Gibbs looked a bit off colour.

"Oh," he said, "sorry, Boss. I didn't realise you were a genuphobic."

"A what?" demanded Gibbs, opening his eyes and unclenching his hands as it seemed that the DiNozzo torture had finished.

"I'm most impressed, Anthony," said Ducky approvingly, "genuphobia, my dear Jethro, is a fear of knees. Anthony, you never fail to amaze me."

"I got kinda interested in knees when I was having my op," said Tony shrugging modestly.

"It is indeed a very interesting subject," agreed Ducky, "and it is always a pleasure when a patient takes such an interest in a medical procedures. It is one of my few regrets about the work I do," he sighed, "my patients are rarely appreciative of what I do for them."

Tony opened his mouth to begin what Gibbs feared would be another discussion of knee surgery,

"Hey," he said brusquely, "can I drink that coffee or not?"

"I do apologise, Jethro," said Ducky, "yes, the surgery is scheduled for 8am tomorrow so you can indeed imbibe this beverage. You will not be able to eat or drink anything after midnight."

Gibbs reached out eager hands for the cup of slightly cooling coffee and took a refreshing sip. The tension in the room seemed to go down by several notches.

"DiNozzo," said Gibbs.

"Boss?"

"Take my gear back home. Pick up a pair of sweats for me and bring them back."

"Sure, Boss, anything else?"

"There's a book by my bed, might as well bring that as well. Nothing else to do but read," and he directed a half-hearted glare at Ducky and Tony.

Tony headed out and was back in a surprisingly short time. He looked a little shifty and restless but Gibbs didn't take much notice as he was engrossed in drinking the last of his coffee. He drained the last drop with a regretful sigh.

"Night, Tony," he said and settled down to sleep.

NCISNCIS

A worried Tony stood outside Gibbs' hospital room and tried to decide what to do. He had got to Gibbs' house and found, to his astonishment, that the front door was locked. Lock-picks weren't approved as cargo on military flights so Tony didn't have his set with him. He wanted to get into Gibbs' house to complete his mission and, on the spur of the moment, did the only thing that occurred to him. He went round the back and smashed a window!

Now, at the hospital, he needed to think how to fix this without Gibbs ever finding out that he had damaged his house. Actually, Tony didn't think fixing a window would be that hard; he was, after all, quite a practical sort of guy.

And so it proved. He went back to Gibbs' house and measured the window; by that time the hardware stores were all closed so he decided to sleep at Gibbs' to deter any burglars taking advantage of a broken window and then go and buy new glass first thing in the morning. He didn't sleep particularly well but his plan went worked. He didn't oversleep, the store cut him a piece of glass and gave him brief instructions. Tony returned to the house, removed the broken glass and inserted the new pane. Tony stood back in some amazement at what he had done and began to think he had a new career option when his NCIS days were over.

He should have stopped there. He noticed, however, that in removing the broken glass he had scratched the paintwork; Gibbs would also spot that. Tony knew that Gibbs had only recently repainted the window frames so he ran down to the basement hoping to find some left over paint. Again, he was lucky and found half a tin.

Painting the window frame was trickier than he'd expected and it took a long time to get a smooth finish. At last it was done, however, and he stood back with pleasure to look at his handiwork although he thought the new career option seemed less attractive now. He stretched his arms in pleasure at a job well done, and knocked the paint tin off the window ledge and on to Gibbs beautiful wooden floor.

"Tim!" said Tony urgently as McGee answered his cell, "how do I get paint off a wooden floor?"

"What?" said McGee, "why aren't you at work?"

"This is more important than _WORK_! I've messed up Gibbs' floor! The floor he's just re-varnished!"

"Why did you spill paint on Gibbs' floor?" asked McGee.

"This is not the time, McRelevant," hissed Tony, "do you think I did it _deliberately?_ I don't have a death wish. Now, are you going to help me or not?"

"I know a really good handyman," offered Tim, "he could do it for you."

"When could he do it?" asked Tony, wondering if this was a better option."

"Not till next week, he's gone out of town for a cyber conference" said Tim.

"That's no good," shrieked Tony, "Boss'll be out this afternoon, it can't wait till next week! Wait, is he a geek?"

"Yes," said Tim a bit sulkily, "but he's a real good handyman as well. Just because someone rocks at virtual slaughter doesn't mean they're not good at other things too."

"Of course not," said Tony pacifically, "but as your hero is out of town, do you think you could give me some ADVICE!"

"Sure," said Tim, "now there's a number of options. I'm just doing a search now on the 'Majestic Hardware Solutions Inc'. You can sand it off, remove it chemically with paint stripper ... lots of ways, Tony."

Tony listened carefully and then went back to the hardware store and bought brushes, varnish, stripper, scouring pads and sand paper. Back at Gibbs' house, he plugged in his laptop and accessed a video clip of removing stains from wooden floors. He followed the directions meticulously, applied the paint stripper, waited for it to work and then scraped it off. It went well, the paint was gone but it had taken over an hour and he realised that he had scrubbed too hard and had scratched the wood beneath.

He got some sandpaper out and worked away. Soon the wood was smooth again but, unfortunately, there was now a dip in the floor. He needed to find a way to level out the surface. Then Tony remembered that there had been an advert at the hardware store for hiring power sanders; surely that would be quicker? He raced to the hardware store where Doug the clerk was pleased to see him and offered him a regular customer discount; he also helped Tony load the power sander into his car.

Tony decided to be responsible and read the instructions but time was slipping by and he felt a bit panicky. He scanned the first four pages and then decided he knew enough. He switched the machine on and let it run gently over the surface. He switched it off and looked at the results, nothing seemed to have happened so he tried again and pressed harder. Dust flew everywhere and he began to cough. Then he remembered that helpful Doug had also sold him a face mask, he dug this out and put it on. The dust continued to fly everywhere but he could see that the varnish and a good layer of wood was coming off.

Finally he decided he had done enough and switched the machine off. It would have been better, he realised, if he'd covered the furniture which he had shoved into a corner and which was now covered with brown dust. Still, that was a problem for later: he had a smooth floor waiting to be varnished. He went down to the basement and, fortunately, found a tin of the varnish Gibbs had just used.

Tony went back upstairs, vacuumed the floor and prepared to varnish the wood, He varnished for about ten minutes and then found that the tin was empty. He sighed and went back to see his new friend Doug. It turned out that Gibbs had bought the last tin of that particular colour so Tony had to choose another colour – which meant he would have to do the whole floor. Doug wished he was on commission as he helped Tony stagger out to his car with yet another load.

In other circumstances, Tony mused, varnishing a floor might be quite soothing and therapeutic; the experience was sending him off into a pleasant, almost out of body experience. Then he realised he was getting a headache and the slightly numb feeling in his brain was probably because he had forgotten to open the windows to allow the fumes to disperse. He lurched to his feet and walked over to the window; it was, of course, a pity that he walked over his newly varnished floor to get there.

Two hours later, however, it was all done. He hoped Gibbs would like the chestnut colour which he thought was more of a style statement than the previous burgundy. He sagged against the wall in relief ... and then realised that he had varnish all over his hands and had just left two perfect chestnut handprints on Gibbs' magnolia wall. He backed away in horror, tripped over the tin of varnish and fell to the ground.

Tony lay there, he didn't have the energy to move. He reached for his cell, "Probie, call your cyber geek handy friend and ask him to come and redecorate Gibbs' living room."

"Living room?" asked McGee, "I thought it was just a bit of paint?"

"Don't ask, McGee, don't ask," said a weary Tony.

He stayed where he was for a few moments and then summoned his strength to get up. It was more difficult than he expected as he had begun to stick to the drying varnish, he yelped as some strands of hair got tugged out. When he finally got up he saw that he had left a Tony sized imprint in the tacky varnish. His cell rang,

"Yeah?" he said in a tired voice.

"Tony! Good news," came McGee's excited voice, "Henry's come home early!"

"Who's Henry?"

"The handyman!"

"You mean it's your friend _Henry_ who's the Handyman? You know someone called Henry the Handyman?"

"Hey," said McGee, a little sniffily, "d'you want him or not?"

"Sorry, McSaviour. Yeah, I want him ... even if he does sound as if he's just come out of a children's game."

Tony went out into the backyard to try and think of how he could keep Gibbs out of his living room for a few days while Henry the Handyman did his work and the smell of paint and varnish faded. He sat down on the grass, the only thing he thought he couldn't damage and closed his eyes to help him think better.

"Oh, that's so _sweet_", he heard Abby say. Tony felt something pressing on his head and he jerked up in a sudden horror that the window pane was falling on him. He realised that his head was resting on a bed and the thing pressing on his head was Gibbs' hand. He looked around as the hand fell away and saw Abby taking a picture on her phone.

"What?" he said faintly.

"Bout time, you woke up," said Gibbs blearily, "they're coming to take me down in a few minutes."

"What?" repeated Tony.

"If you'd slept on the plane, DiNozzo," said Gibbs a little smugly, "you wouldn't have needed to hijack my bed."

"What?" said Tony again.

"You fell asleep after returning with Gibbs' gear last night, Anthony," came Ducky's voice from the other side of the bed.

"You mean I've been here all the time? And tomorrow hasn't happened yet?"

"It depends where you are," said Abby earnestly, "some places in the world it's still yesterday and other places tomorrow's nearly over."

"What?" said Tony still groping for reality.

"What Abigail is trying to say," said Ducky kindly, "is that here in Washington tomorrow is now today and yesterday is but a memory."

"What?"

"DiNozzo. You've been here all night. Is that clear?" said Gibbs who, despite being more than a little woozy and spaced out from a pre-med was still more succinct than his co-workers.

"Yes, Boss, thank you, Boss. Er, Boss. I had to break a window to get in last night. Sorry."

"That's all right, Tony, my bad," said a serene, doped up Gibbs.

"But I'll get on to McGee and send someone round to fix the window," said Tony.

"Henry the handyman," said Gibbs dozily, "he'll do it."

Shortly afterwards, two orderlies came to take Gibbs down to the theatre. Ducky had suggested to Dr Buckle that it would be better for Gibbs to be knocked out for the operation rather than be kept awake. Dr Buckle had agreed; he couldn't imagine operating while Gibbs gave a running commentary.

As Gibbs began to come round later that day, the first thing he was aware of was Tony's panicky voice,

"What do you mean, Tim, that the fire service is on its way?"

Gibbs could just hear the sound of sirens coming through the phone.

"Why did Henry decide to use a blow torch? So it's only half the house that's burned down? No, I don't think Gibbs is going to look on the bright side! No, I'm not going to tell him that it turns out that your friend Henry is a pyromaniac. I don't care if I am Senior Field Agent, you can tell him, Probie."

Gibbs shot upright in bed and then gasped at the pain in his knee.

"Now, Jethro, you need to take things gently," said Ducky in a reproving voice.

"I can't take things gently when my house has just burned down," shouted Gibbs.

"What?" said Ducky.

Gibbs waved an accusing finger at Tony, "I heard him say half my house has been burned down."

"Boss?"

"Don't deny it. I can still hear the sirens," said Gibbs irately.

"McGee's on his way over here," said Tony, "er ...some police cars just went past."

"Why did you say McGee was going to have to tell me something?"

"Moondeer's Coffee House has just gone bust," said Tony, "damn! I have ended up telling you after all!"

"What about Doug and my burgundy floor?" asked Gibbs desperately.

"Boss?" said Tony with a wide-eyed gaze.

"You were trying to fix my house," said Gibbs, "but it all went wrong."

"Me? Try and fix your house? Do you really think I'd even try to do that, Boss?"

"Oh," said Gibbs, trying to think clearly, "no, it was a dream. You dreamt that you were trying to sand my floor."

"So you dreamed I was having a dream?" said Tony in a mystified tone.

"Guess so," said Gibbs.

"And that dream carried on and you dreamed McGee did something to your house?" pressed Tony.

Gibbs nodded uncertainly.

"My word, Jethro," said Ducky, "it seems that it's not just Anthony who has an odd reaction to sedatives and the like. I must make sure there is an appropriate annotation in your medical file. It seems you have built a whole house of dreams just on Anthony waking up and admitting that he broke a window to gain access to your house!"

Gibbs was still trying to make sense of what he had actually heard and when but there was something else on his mind, "So what's the verdict, Duck? On my knee?"

"Ah," said Ducky, "both good and bad news, I fear. There is nothing structurally amiss with the joint. Buckle did some clearing out of cartilage and the like but I suspect you don't want the details?" Gibbs shook his head mutely, so Ducky continued, "but the knee will be sore for a while and the good doctor recommends that you continue with bed rest for a few days. And," he said firmly, "I will insist on it."

Gibbs still felt confused so nodded consent – for the moment at least.

"We'd better be heading back," said Tony, "we'll leave you in peace. Good news is that you're allowed to have coffee again."

"Thanks," said Gibbs, "appreciate you all coming over."

"It's a pleasure," said Ducky, "and you can show your true appreciation by obeying doctors' orders. Goodbye."

Abby gave Gibbs a gentle hug, Tony waved farewell and they all left. Gibbs lay back on his pillows and tried to organise his wandering thoughts. This was what happened, he thought, when he was deprived of caffeine.

NCISNCIS

Ducky, Abby and Tony met McGee in the hospital car park,

"What are we going to do?" demanded Tim, "Henry's a madman. Gibbs' living room is a heap of ash and half the roof has caved in!"

"Turns out we've been lucky," said Tony.

"Lucky!" shouted Tim, "I've just been responsible for incinerating Gibbs' house! What's lucky about that?"

"It seems that Jethro had an unusual reaction to the sedative, probably combined with a withdrawal of caffeine," said Ducky.

"How does that help?" asked Tim.

"Boss had some weird dreams. Seems he dreamt that I dreamt I ruined his house and then that got muddled up with him overhearing me talking to you."

"And I must say, Anthony," said Ducky proudly, "that I thought you recovered that situation very well."

"Thanks, Ducky. Although I don't know how I'll break it to him that the coffee shop hasn't gone bust."

"Oh, yes," said McGee sarcastically, "that's a _real_ problem! What are we going to do about Gibbs' house?"

"Well," said Tony calmly, "we could tell him the truth. He took it very well when I told him I'd broken a window."

"But he was under the influence of drugs at the time, and a broken window is a tad less serious than a house reduced to ashes" said Ducky.

"True. I don't think we should go down the truth route unless lying and deceit fail," said Tony thoughtfully.

They all stood quietly for a few minutes.

"Right," said Tony briskly, "Abs, this is the forensic challenge of a lifetime. You have to reconstruct Gibbs' house perfectly – in two days. McHacker, you'll have to fiddle a payment out of Gibbs' house insurance to pay for all this and without him having to pay excess on his premiums in the future. Ducky, you'll have to keep Gibbs drugged up and in hospital until this is all over. OK?"

"And what will you be doing, Tony?" asked McGee.

"I'm going to talk to all Gibbs' neighbours and persuade them to keep quiet about all this. And find a place to put Henry! It's not going to be easy, you know, I'll have to use all my charm and ... and, you know I can't think of a movie reference to help me. Now, let's go. We've got work to do!"

"On it, Boss!" came the chorus of replies.

NCISNCIS

In his bed, Gibbs chuckled at the idea that _Tony _could have had a dream in which he met Doug and been able to mend a window. He wondered dreamily if burgundy had been the right choice of colour, the chestnut had looked good in the dream. Dreams, he thought, thank goodness it had all been one long dream. He thought he would be more sympathetic in future when DiNozzo had one of his odd reactions to pain killers.

He laughed again at the thought of how Tim would react if his friend had turned out to be a pyromaniac with a penchant for blow torches. And then he laughed so loud that a nurse ran in to see if he was all right.

"I'm fine," he said, "I just dreamed my house burned down!"

* * *

_AN Mrs DiNozzo in Waiting wanted a story with Tony trying to fix Gibbs' house. This was the nearest I could get to it._


End file.
